


My Time Spent With You

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [92]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Partial Nudity, Pointless fluff, Rain, Sort Of, Tickle Fights, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and this fic is wish fulfillment for that lol, snuggles, the author just wants to take a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You and Piotr enjoy some snuggles in bed on a rainy fall day.That's it. That's the fic.You're welcome.(Set after "It's Truly Magical.")[All warnings in the tags, but there's basically nothing going on with this one.]
Relationships: Piotr Rasputin/Reader
Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [92]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079544
Comments: 11
Kudos: 27





	My Time Spent With You

A dreary, bitter autumnal rain drenches New York City. The front’s turned the air frigid, biting, practically painful. The downpour washes brown, partially rotted leaves along the streets, swirling like capsized ships as they sail towards the storm drains, never to be seen again except by the rats and roaches of the sewage system.

It is, undoubtedly, a miserable day. Woe to anyone who must venture out –or, worse still, work outside—in this depressing weather.

You have no need to fret over the weather, though. No, luck has shone on you today; you’re snuggle in bed, nestled next to your husband, Piotr, clad only in one of his sweaters and a pair of panties.

Piotr drags his fingers along your bare leg –which is draped over his waist. He smiles when he makes you giggle, then kisses your forehead. “So sensitive.”

“I can’t help it!” You flinch as his fingers continue their trajectory up your leg –then squeal and squirm away when he intentionally tickles the back of your thigh. “Hey! Not nice!”

“But your laugh is so lovely,” he teases as he continues tickling you. He chuckles as you writhe and giggle, then jumps when your fingers dig into his ribs. “Hey!”

“You started it!”

He snorts –which is _adorable_ —then simultaneously tries to get your hands away from his ribs, pin your arms down, and keep tickling you.

And you, being you, fight back. You flail your arms, distracting him with one hand while the other darts in to tickle him. When that fails –because once he’s got a hold on you, there’s no wrenching your arms away—you use your feet to tickle his stomach.

Piotr yelps. He squirms away, giggling boyishly. “Cheating! You are cheating, _myshka_!”

“You’re cheating by holding my arms!”

“Restraint is fair play!”

“Not when you started it!”

The two of you roll around on the bed, squeezing and poking and trying to pin each other –and, on a different day, you’d be doing something entirely different.

Piotr _shrieks_ when you grab his foot and start tickling. He howls with laughter, face going red as he fights for air. “ _Prekrati eto_!” He waves his hands back and forth, giggling wildly. “Stop!”

You stop moving your fingers –but you don’t release his foot. “Do you surrender?”

He snorts, then plucks a tissue from the box on his nightstand and waves it in the air. “ _Ty pobedil_. I surrender.”

You let go of his foot, then crawl up the bed until you can flop down against his chest. “Then, to the victor goes the spoils. Gimme a kiss.”

“Gladly.” He cups your cheek with one hand, then presses his lips against yours. He sighs when you stroke his hair, relaxing against you. When the kiss ends, he smiles sweetly at you –then looks around the bed. “We made mess of blankets.”

“Well, _yeah_. Such is the price of victory.”

Piotr snorts, then gets up and starts rearranging the blankets and pillows.

And you, being the ‘fantastic helper’ that you are, stay where you are. Just to make things more difficult.

Piotr sighs and raises an eyebrow when you shove the blankets down the bed with your feet (for the third time, no less). “ _Myshka_ ,” he says, feigning sternness. “You are being difficult.”

“Damn right I am.” You giggle when you smack a pillow away, causing it to careen off the bed and flop onto the floor. “Home run!”

Piotr’s mouth quirks into a smile, breaking his stoic façade. He laughs silently, stomach quivering under his Henley. “Why?”

“Because it amuses me.”

He shakes his head –then quickly yanks the blankets up and over you.

“Hey!” You flail under the blankets, trying to kick them off you –then burst into laughter when a pillow drops –gently—atop your head. “Rude!”

Piotr chuckles, then lifts the blankets on his side of the bed and slides underneath them. He cozies up next you, drawing you against his chest –and, in effect, preventing you from messing up his hard work. “Aah. This is very nice.”

“I did not consent to this!” You struggle against his grip (futilely).

“But is it not so wonderful, _moya lyubov’_? Just you, and me—”

“You’re impeding me from living my best, chaotic life.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I admit to nothing.”

“And, in doing so, admit to everything.”

You do settle back down, though.

Peace seeps into the room once more. The rain is as steady as a drumbeat on the roof, soft and gentle like a mother’s kiss. Between the sound of the rain, the warmth provided by the blankets, and the way Piotr’s stroking your hair, it’s all practically an anesthetic.

You nuzzle against your husband’s brawny chest. “You’re makin’ m’ sleepy,” you mumble, eyelids steadily drooping shut.

“Then rest.” Piotr kisses the top of your head again. “You deserve sleep, _moya serdtse_.”

“Got stuff t’ do,” you murmur before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

“And it will be there when you wake up.” His lips brush your forehead, then the bridge of your nose. “Go to sleep, _myshka_.”

“Will you wake me up so I don’ sleep all day?”

“ _Konechno_.” He reaches over to the nightstand—

You wrap your arms around his chest. “Don’ leave me.”

“Never.” Piotr sets an alarm on his phone, places the device back on his nightstand, then adjusts his pillow so he’s more comfortable. He wraps one arm around you, then resumes stroking your hair with his free hand. “I will always be yours, _lyublyu_.”

“I like that.” You yawn again. “I’ll always be yours, too, baby.”

Piotr kisses your lips gently. “That makes me very happy, _myshka_.”

You let out a small, contented hum. A sleepy smile graces your lips.

You let the rain, the warmth of your bed, and your husband’s love lull you to sleep.


End file.
